


Look At My Many Mouths

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Antagonistic Behavior, Biting, Blood, Cutting, Fighting, Knives, M/M, Multiple Mouths, Punching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10908555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: There are a lot of places for people who aren't entirely people to meet up. Anti and Wilford run into each other.





	Look At My Many Mouths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mysticgator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysticgator/gifts).



> Edited by the lovely Angel. Thank you so much, darling!

There are places that those who aren't entirely human (or those who aren't entirely... otherwise) like to hang out. 

A metaphorical fancy coffee house here, a theoretical dive bar, some weird little place between whatever worlds (or world like things) that certain people might be... stopping by in, for lack of a better way of putting it. 

Wilford was... complicated.

That was how he put it, at any rate, and then he'd smile that big toothy smile at you, and if you had any sense, you changed the subject, and then hopefully also change to a new subject to converse with.

Anti... well, Anti knew who he was.

Anti Wasn't From Around Here, regardless of where Here happened to be. 

He liked people to know this, usually in fun and violent ways.

So when the two of them happened to trip into the same metaphorical gin joint... well....

* * *

"What are you doing here?" 

Anti scowled at Wilford, as the pink haired man sidled over to him. 

"Leave me alone," Anti snapped.

"Now _why_ ," crooned Wilford, "would I go and do a thing like that?"

He sat down next to Anti at the bar, and he crowded a _bit_ too close.

"Leave me alone," Anti groused.

"I've got some good ideas for some fun stuff we could do," said Wilford, and his thigh was right up against Anti's. 

Anti slid away.

Wilford slid closer. 

"Don't you have that big annoying dummy to bother?"

"I'm bothering him right now," Wilford, and he smiled with a few too many teeth. 

There were... other individuals around, and a few of them were starting to leer.

For fuck sake. 

Anti glared at Wilford, and he took a slug of his drink.

It was bitter, strong enough that it would probably put hair on that weird annoying little fuck's chest.

Maybe that was why he was so hairy - Anti drank so much.

Anti snickered into his drink, and that was a mistake, because Wilford saw it, and he wrapped an arm around Anti's middle, resting his head on Anti's shoulder. 

"I knew you'd come around to liking me," Wilford said, in a voice that was as syrupy as poison cotton candy.

"Fuck off," Anti said, and he shrugged and wriggled Wilford off of him. 

"But I don't _want_ to fuck off," Wilford said, and he laughed. 

It was a grating laugh, Anti snarled at him like a wildcat, shoving him off of the stool. 

"None of that," intoned the thing behind the bar, and Anti glowered at it. 

He was in a Mood, and he didn't want to deal with any of this bullshit. 

"He started it," Wilford said, but he was more or less seated on his own bar stool now, so that was something.

"I don't care who started it," the thing said, and it held a great cudgel in one of its many limbs. "I will be the one to finish it."

"Right, right," Warfstache said smoothly, and he ordered his own drink.

"Must you sit next to me?" Anti's voice was grating, but he wanted to sound as shit as he felt.

If he were in the shouty idiot's world, the lights would have flickered.

He didn't have that kind of power here, more the pity. 

"I don't see any other... friendly faces around," said Warf, "and us bipeds have to stick together, don't we?"

"Who you calling a biped?" 

"Well, that is the shape you're wearing now," said Warf, and he smiled, like a razor blade in an apple.

Anti rolled his eyes.

He didn't have any skin, so if he wanted any kind of form, he had to... borrow the one that he was using. 

Like now.

It was his luck that he got the skinny shouty idiot. 

"I'm not a biped by choice," said Anti, "and anyway, it's not like you've got another set of legs to stand on."

"Oh, I've got plenty of extra things that just... don't come up," Wilford said, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like a purr.

One hand came up to stroke a piece of hair behind Anti's ear, and Anti snarled, nearly biting the hand.

Warf drew his hand back, but he was grinning very, very widely. 

"My, my, someone is testy," said Warf.

"I'm trying to enjoy my drink," Anti said, signalling the bartender for another one. 

"Well, perhaps I'm trying to enjoy _mine_. Did you think of that?"

"By bothering me?"

"Maybe you're my drink."

"That doesn't make any sense."

There was something cold and metal pressed against Anti's ribs, and Warf was still grinning merrily as he applied more pressure to the knife he was digging into Anti's side.

The way Wilford treated the damn thing, it might as well have been his dick.

"What is your goddamn problem?" Anti yelled, and he actually stood up, getting forehead to forehead and snarling at Wilford. 

"The fact that at this very moment, your rock hard dick is not splitting me open," Wilford purred.

Anti made a noise of disgust and shoved Wilford away from him, stalking away from the bar and out the door.

* * *

He didn't exactly... walk.

Things are more complicated in these realms, as it was mentioned, and things can get a bit... odd, especially when entities that aren't entirely in any direction are moving through them. 

But Anti made his way, past the memories of houses and the ghosts of alleyways, and he grumbled to himself, about annoying lunkheads, about tacky suspenders, about pushy idiots.

Until he caught sight of a flicker of pink out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?!" 

Anti spun around, and there was Wilford, leaning against the wall of an alley, which was becoming more solid the more it came into contact with Wilford's strange flesh. 

"What? A guy can't follow his pal home?" Wilford put on an expression that bordered on martyrdom. "I don't know what I'd do with myself, if something were to happen to you, and you _have_ had a lot to drink. The way you stormed out like that, it seemed to me like you weren't exactly in your right mind...." 

“Will you get out of my face,” Anti snapped. 

He was going to go bother the shouty idiot.

“I’m not in your face,” Wilford protested.

And then he did… something, and he was a few inches in front of Anti, and Anti could smell the rank humanity boiling off of him. 

“See, this? _This_ is me being in your face.” Wilford’s voice was… smug.

It was so smug that Anti had to pull his arm back and punch the fucker in the face. 

But Wilford wasn't supposed to _moan_ like he was getting his cock sucked, holy fuck that was weird.

"Oh, baby, do that again," Warf said, and Anti drew his hand back, wrinkling his nose.

"You're fucking weird," he told Wilford.

"Well, yes," said Wilford, and once again he was crowding into Anti's space, one hand stroking down Anti's face, the other one tangling in Anti's hair. "But that's what you like about me, isn't it?" 

"You're a fucking pain in the ass," Anti grumbled, but his hackles were starting to smooth down, as Wilford scratched at his scalp with the tips of those tricky fingers of his. 

"I could be more of a pain in the ass, if you'd like," said Wilford. 

Anti growled in the back of his throat, slunk forward, and dug his teeth into Wilford's shoulder.

It wasn't entirely a conscience choice, but then again, Anti was a pretty impulse driven individual. 

Warf moaned again, harder this time, and his strange, bitter, syrupy blood exploded onto Anti's tongue.

Anti bit him again, on the other side, and Wilford tried to hump against Anti's leg.

Anti rolled his eyes, shoving Wilford against the wall. 

There was blood rolling down his chin, and starting to stain his shirt.

Would it stain the shouty idiot's shirt? That'd be kinda neat.

Another thing for him to bitch about, how Anti ruined his life and shit like that. 

"Why'd you stop?" Wilford looked plaintive, and then he was grinning, that creepy grin of his, with his teeth that seemed a bit too crowded under that pink mustache. 

"I don't like getting freaks like you off," Anti said, which wasn't entirely true.

It wasn't the first time that he'd fucked around like this with Wilford, but usually there was a bit more... finesse. 

Maybe he was in a mood of some kind. 

"You don't wanna just get me off, huh?" Wilford nodded sagely. "That makes sense."

Then he drew his hand back, and he punched Anti square in the face.

Anti snarled, going for Wilford's face with his claws, which were sprouting out of his fingers like beans in the summertime, and his second mouth - the one where he had slit Jack's throat - opened up as well, and those sharp teeth of his were chilled as they were bared. 

"Oh ho ho, hello there," said Wilford, and he forced Anti against the wall, tangling his fingers in Anti's hair, slamming Anti's head into the memory of bricks.

They might have been the memory of bricks, but that pain that exploded up into his head wasn't anything at all like a memory. 

Anti howled, and he howled in some kind of contorted harmony, with the voice in his throat and the voice in his mouth.

Then Wilford's fingers were shoving their sneaky way into his throat, along those selfsame teeth.

Anti's second tongue, long and almost barbed, wrapped around Warf's fingers, and Warf moaned again. 

"You're a sick fuck," Anti said, with the mouth on his face.

"You wouldn't have me any other way," said Wilford, and then he waggled his eyebrows. "Well, no, I know how you'll have me."

"Maybe I don't want you," Anti said, although they both knew that this was a lie.

This was the little game they played. 

Something like hard to get. 

Something like "convince me." 

"You're a hard sell," Wilford agreed, and his knife was prodding Anti in the side, the smooth, flat of it stroking along Anti's ribs. 

Anti shivered, and he laughed.

"You couldn't hurt me with that," he told Wilford, and he was still cackling. 

"I could certainly try," said Wilford, and he cut a slit along Anti's side, tearing Anti's shirt. 

The tear in Anti's flesh sealed itself over pretty easily, a few drops of ichor drooling down. 

Anti made a surprised noise, and he knocked the knife out of Wilford's hand.

"I wish I had one of my lovely little pea shooters," said Wilford, and he was backing Anti into a crate, which had just... appeared, out of nowhere. 

Anti sat on it, and Wilford straddled him, so that they were dick to dick.

"I'm gonna ride your dick," Wilford said, in a cheerful tone of voice that is usually reserved for candy stores and panel vans.

"Are you now? You don't even know what it's shaped like, in this realm."

Not strictly true - since Anti had begun inhabiting the shouty idiot's body, his own shape had stayed more or less consistent.

But still.

"I always did love a surprise," Wilford said. 

He got off of Anti's lap, and he grabbed Anti's pants, shoving them down.

Anti let him.

Because fuck it.

He'd get an orgasm, he'd possibly get an opportunity to embarrass Jack... which was really a win-win.

* * * 

Anti's cock was more or less Jack's.

Anti's was bigger, _obviously_ , and Anti's was... slimier, for lack of a better way of putting it, but that was just how he worked.

Wilford was smirking as he looked down at it, licking his bloodied lips.

"Would you look at that ugly thing," he said casually, and he took it into his mouth in one fucking gulp, swallowing around it.

Anti groaned, digging his claws into Wilford's shoulders, tearing up his already beaten up pink shirt, and Wilford groaned like he was dying, vibrating up Anti's shoulders. 

Wilford pulled off with a "pop", and he grinned up at Anti in the strange other-light, his lips swollen and shiny with spit. 

"I'm gonna ride this thing," he told Anti. "I've been planning on it my whole evening."

Anti leaned back against the wall, still seated, and he raised an eyebrow, as Wilford dropped his own pants, reached behind himself, and pulled out....

"You're wearing a fucking butt plug?!" 

"What can I say?" Warf dropped the plug on top of the pile of cloth that was his pants on the alley floor. "I like to come prepared."

"Well, aren't you just the perfect little Boy Scout?" Anti was beginning to pant, through his neck, through his mouth.

"Ooo, kinky," cooed Warf. "Khaki always made me look washed out, but if you ask nicely enough...."

"Would you just - _fuck_!" 

Warf lowered himself down onto Anti's dick, and just... took him all in.

One fell swoop.

It helped that neither of them were entirely human, but... still.

"Fuck," Anti said, for once at a loss for anything clever to say.

"I'd have to get off your dick to do it to you," Wilford said, his voice smarmy, his fingers sliding towards Anti's second mouth.

Anti snarled, but then Wilford's fingers were probing the inside of Anti's second mouth, and Anti bit down without thinking, his sharp teeth drawing more of Wilford's blood, filling up Anti's whole head with the taint of mortality and the sickly sweetness of his madness.

"Fuck, you've got quite a pecker on you," said Wilford, and he wriggled his hips, using some of his internal muscles to squeeze Anti in new and interesting ways.

"It's _in_ you," said Anti, and he thrust up, grabbing hold of Wilford's sides and squeezing, then dragging his nails down, drawing more blood to the surface.

Wilford moaned, and he clenched again, harder, his dick hard and wet against Anti's belly.

Wilford grabbed Anti's hand, he wrapped it around his own cock, squeezing his fingers around Anti's, and Anti obliged by jerking him off, blood puddling onto Wilford's groin, more slime drooling out.

Wilford's cock was hot, and it was wet, with blood and with pre.

Wilford was moaning, he was humping into Anti's hand, and he clenched harder around Anti every time Anti jerked his wrist, the pressure absolutely _perfect_ around Anti's dick, and now Anti was full on humping into Wilford, panting hard, through both mouths.

* * *

He came inside of Wilford, with Wilford's fingers in both of his mouths, his teeth buried in the skin, his own fingers dug into Wilford's sides, squeezing Wilford's dick.

Wilford was chuckling, and that was annoying enough for Anti to take another bite, more blood drooling down his chin.

Which got Wilford cumming, right across Anti's shirt, across Anti's stomach.

Anti made a face, as Wilford squeezed him tighter, milking him dry of any remaining cum. 

"Fuck," said Wilford, and he laughed, pulling his fingers out of Anti's mouth, licking his own blood off of them, then leaning down to kiss Anti's second mouth.

Anti let himself be kissed, panting heavily, shaking in spite of himself.

"That was fun," Wilford said cheerfully, standing up. "Let's do this again sometime!"

And then he just... vanished. 

Anti, his pants down around his ankles, his cock wilting, still bloody, glared at the puff of smoke where the other entity had been sitting. 

"Fucker," he snarled, but didn't move.

He had needed that. 

Although he'd be loathe to admit it.


End file.
